


The Jelly-Belly Jinx

by cait_stewart



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Enemies to Lovers, Hogwarts Sixth Year, M/M, Mpreg, Stomach Ache, belly inflation, maybe? - Freeform, you'll have to wait and see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 20:17:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18858352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cait_stewart/pseuds/cait_stewart
Summary: Harry and Malfoy's duel from Half Blood Prince, except Harry chooses to use a more... interesting spell than Sectumsempra.





	The Jelly-Belly Jinx

Potter’s curse, Draco supposes, fails to work as intended. Granted, he did manage to partially deflect it, but he can’t imagine that the desired result of Potter’s spell was a mild pinching sensation to Draco’s stomach. Or even a strong-ish pinching sensation to Draco’s stomach, for that matter.

“What the fuck was that, Potter?” he asks, mystified. “A _pinch_?” 

Potter looks equally baffled. 

“I’m not… it’s the first time I tried this spell,” he says, the ridiculousness of the situation apparently getting in the way of his anger. He’s holding a hand to his midsection. “I think it backfired, too. I felt a pinch as well.” 

“You _would_ go around casting spells you’ve never tried,” says Draco, mirroring Potter’s gesture. His stomach is starting to feel a little sore, most likely as a consequence of Potter’s idiotic spell. “Very clever of you!” 

“It’s not like I care what happens to you,” says Potter, savagely. He’s gone a bit pale, Draco notices. His stomach must be bothering him as well. _Suits him right._

“Yes, Potter, very threatening,” says Draco, frowning at the increasing sense of… fullness? that is now accompanying the pain in his belly. A few minutes ago he was looking forward to his dinner, but now it feels like he’d just finished eating a full meal. A big one, at that. 

Potter lets out a small groan. 

“I’m fine,” he snaps, answering a question Draco hadn’t had any intention of asking. He’s looking slightly bloated, Draco notices, his shirt tight over the small swell of his midsection. 

“I don’t give a fuck,” replies Draco, vaguely alarmed by the pace at which his own stomach is expanding, judging from the way it feels under his fingers. He doesn’t dare look down. 

Potter groans again. His belly, having doubled in size in the last few seconds, is now very obviously rounded out. Draco winces through the overwhelming feeling of pressure in his own stomach, which -- he realizes -- is now sticking out a few inches past his chest, with no sign of stopping soon. 

“We’re going to die, Potter,” he groans, clutching at the rapidly swelling mound with both hands. “Your fucking spell is going to kill us both, you stupid prick.” 

“We’re not…. AAAH!” 

Potter lets out a yell of pain and falls to his knees, curling in agony around his distended belly. Draco props himself against the nearest sink, eyes tightly shut, and breathes deeply through gritted teeth, willing himself not to give in to the raising wave of panic that’s threatening to overcome him. Surely there _has_ to be a solution, a counter-spell, anything to stop whatever is expanding inside them before they both… 

As quickly as it had started, the growing stops. 

Draco, bewildered by the sudden and rather anti-climatic development, opens his eyes. Potter is lying on his side, looking shaken but relatively unscathed, except for the fact that his stomach is so swollen that he looks several months pregnant. Draco looks down: he’s in the same exact situation, his jumper-clad belly so big that he can’t see his feet. He blinks a few times. It’s an absurd sight: five minutes ago, his stomach was perfectly flat. He carefully presses a hand to the hard surface of his gut -- his poor insides stretched to his absolute limit by whatever it is that expaned inside them, the pressure almost unbearable. 

Potter has rolled to his back, the naked swell of his preposterous stomach sticking out from his bony frame. His shirt’s buttons, it turns out, were no match for his sudden expansion. 

“Are you all right, Malfoy?” he asks, weakly, addressing the ceiling. 

“Yeah,” confirms Draco, slowly lowering himself to the floor. The bottom of his belly rests on his lap once he gets to a sitting position.“You?” 

“Yeah. Except for the… well,” says Potter, gesturing vaguely at his midsection. “What do you think has happened?” 

“You’re the one who cast the spell!” says Draco, indignantly. “How could you possibly not know…” 

“I thought it was a modified Jelly-Legs jinx,” says Potter, wearily. “Which it pretty clearly was _not_.” 

“Clearly,” agrees Draco, rubbing his overpacked, hard stomach in the hope of soothing his discomfort. “I don’t know what you did to us, but it had fuck-all to do with our legs.” 

“I’m positive it did mention jelly, though,” insists Potter, resting his hand on the peak of his belly. He’s panting slightly, Draco realizes, probably from the strain the fullness of his stomach is putting on his lungs. “I wonder if…” 

“What, Potter?” 

Potter shakes his head. 

“Nothing,” he says, and then, his tone brisker. “Shall we go to the infirmary?” 

Draco considers his options. It _was_ Potter who cast the spell that misfired, but given what he had been doing right before their duel, he doesn’t feel particularly keen on the whole thing coming to Dumbledore’s attention. 

“I suppose we might wait and see if the situations, erm, resolves itself,” he says, slowly. “Mine is not really hurting much any longer, I just feel… well, very full.” 

“I bet,” says Potter, with a trace of grin. “You look like you’ve swallowed a pumpkin.” 

“Fuck off,” says Draco, glaring at him. “Not like you’re exactly svelte at the moment, either.” 

“No,” agrees Potter, contemplating his bloated gut with a sigh. “I’m not in much pain either, though. Do you think it’s dangerous?” 

Draco shrugs. 

“Who knows. We can always reconsider if starts getting worse, I suppose.” 

“The worst part will be getting out of here without anyone noticing,” says Potter, trying in vain to get what’s left of his shirt to cover his middle. “Lend me your jumper, will you?” 

Draco gives a sarcastic laugh. 

“Smart idea! As you can see, it perfectly hides _my_ stomach. You might be a genius, Potter.” 

Potter glowers at him. 

“It’s better than what I have now, at least. I sneak out and get us a couple of cloaks, or something.” 

“Oh,” says Draco, taken by surprise. “That’s... that not a terrible idea, actually.” 

Potter, a smug look on his face, doesn’t reply. 

Draco takes off his jumper, the cool air of the bathroom making him shiver slightly as it hits the diamond of exposed skin between his straining shirt buttons. Potter, he realizes, is staring. 

“Here,” he says, handing Potter the jumper. “Hurry up, I can’t wait to change into something that fits.” 

“You could just… undo your shirt,” suggests Potter, in a strange voice. His gaze is still on Draco’s stomach. He clears his throat. “I’m sure you’d feel a lot better.” 

Draco hesitates for a second, completely taken aback. Surely he’s misreading Potter’s tone? But there’s no mistaking the look in Potter’s eyes, nor -- Draco is shocked to notice -- the bulge in the other boy’s trousers. It a wildly unexpected development, but, all things considered, not an unwelcome one. He feels his own cock perk up inside his pants. 

“Maybe later, Potter,” he says, arching his back to push his giant stomach out even further. “Provided you behave.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts?


End file.
